


to be alive is to be vulnerable

by gold_rush



Series: the sun, the moon, and the truth [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Bones holds everything together, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Food Issues, Jim is anxious, Love, M/M, Polyamory, Spock is helpful, Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7731148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gold_rush/pseuds/gold_rush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim just wants to get through breakfast. Then he wants to do his job, go to bed, and wake up feeling better. Like he always does. Of course, it's easier to pretend you don't have an issue with food when Spock's not there - Spock who's always been able to read Jim like a picture-book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to be alive is to be vulnerable

**Author's Note:**

> A little something to say thanks for your comments/kudos on my other McSpirk offerings! Thank you!

It’s bright and early in the morning when Jim ambles into the cafeteria. Well, it’s kind of bright and early. _Technically_ it’s dark and early because space is perpetually black. But it’s an earth aphorism and Jim likes it, it makes him feel warm somehow, makes him feel grounded; in the same way that sitting in the botany room or near the greenhouse does. There’s something comforting in light, in new growth. It reminds him of home; fills his heart up with hope.

Most of the Enterprise crew are still fast asleep, as they should be, save for those on Beta shift and the cluster of crewmen and crewwomen who are sitting together eating their breakfasts across the room before their respective shifts begin. There’s no sign of Spock or Bones, which Jim is incalculably grateful for. He’s feeling a little off today. A little out of sorts. A little worse for wear. He woke up feeling peculiar, like he does sometimes, unsettled in his core somehow - so, he just wants to eat, make his rounds to confirm that everyone is actually okay, and start his shift. He just wants to get the day over with, go back to sleep, and wake up feeling more like himself. Which he knows he will. Jim hasn’t had two bad days in a row in a very, very long time.

The captain strides up to a replicator, his mind on other things as his index finger scrolls up and down the menu of the ‘EARTH’ category’s ‘breakfast’ sub-division. There’s a lot of things on offer - toast, pancakes, waffles, oatmeal, a vast array of cereals, a whole market’s worth of fruit, and plenty more besides. But Jim doesn’t know what to have, he can’t decide what to pick, can’t work out exactly what he needs to eat so he doesn’t pass out on the bridge and have a lot of awkward explaining to do. He could definitely do without that. He’s the captain, for heaven’s sake, captains have to be strong, defiant, unwavering. They’re the template of unswerving dedication and duty that the crew try to emulate perpetually. And, as such, captains can’t afford to have even the smallest of chinks in their armour. Captains are as close to infallible as sentient beings can get. At least, that’s the theory.

After a minute or two of wavering deliberation, Jim decides on an apple for breakfast - it’s a red one because, for some unspecified reason, he always finds them much easier to digest.

He waits patiently for it to appear, grabs the fruit out of the machine, and spins around, looking out across the vastness of the near-empty room - torn between a blossoming desire to flee to his quarters and his compulsion to walk towards his crew. He knows it’s important that he mixes with them, from a morale standpoint alone, but they’re all incredibly sweet besides - especially Janice Rand, who chooses that moment to look up and smile at her captain. Jim smiles back. The enterprise is lucky to have her.

He can tell that Janice is about to wave him over when the door _whooshes_ open and Spock enters the room. It’s a small mercy, Jim thinks, _maybe_. As long as he can hold himself together for the next twenty minutes. He should be able to - he’s certainly had enough practice over the years. But he also knows that Spock can read him like a pre-schooler’s picture-book.

The newly appeared half-vulcan walks straight towards the replicators - inclining his head briefly towards Jim as he says, ‘Good morning, Captain. It is, as always, a pleasure to see you.’

Spock is bright, cheerful, almost chipper at the prospect of a new day. The formal pleasantry of his words amusing Jim - you’d never guess that only twelve hours ago Spock had had his cock pressed inside Jim, then inside Bones. Jim likes this Spock - playful, vivid, jovial. Don’t get him wrong, he adores every facet of Spock, but this one is his favourite. And, since Jim died and came back, this Spock has been around a lot.

‘Good morning, Mr. Spock,’ Jim replies with mock-formality.

‘And it’s ‘Jim’. It’s always ‘Jim’. Except for maybe in front of an Admiral or a Commodore.’ Jim whispers conspiringly with a smooth smile, none of his swelling uneasiness on display. He’s good at hiding in plain sight, it’s one of his special skills, and he’s had to do it a lot - in one way or another.

‘ _Jim_ ,’ Spock says to himself, nodding as he orders himself an aggressively fragrant tea, ‘Jim. Jim. Jim. Jim. Jim.’

Swirling a spoon through the hot liquid, the corners of the first officer’s mouth rise into a soft smirk - Spock is definitely in a mischievous mood, the half-vulcan’s positive air brushing off on Jim. He can feel his shoulders relax a little, not that he’d noticed they were tense, and he wonders if Spock had noticed. Spock, who rarely misses a thing. Probably.

The first officer lifts up his mug, starts moving towards a table near the back of the room, Jim following behind him like a duckling chasing after its mother.

Spock decides to take a seat that exposes his back to the room, while Jim sits opposite him; positioned so he can see everything.

 _It’s perfect_ , he thinks, eyeing Spock curiously.

‘You find this table to be agreeable?’ Spock enquires, blowing on the warm beverage before taking a careful sip, his beautiful brown eyes highlighted between the frame of the mug and his perfectly straight, dark bangs. Those eyes, they’re watching Jim closely.

‘Yeah. Yeah, it’s great. But a table is a table, right?’ Jim counters a little too flippantly, twisting the stem of the apple that he holds in his hands. It really is an excellent table.

‘Indeed it is, Jim. However, I believe that this particular table - which provides an unobstructed view across the entire cafeteria - is most suitable for your particular needs,’ Spock offers easily, a gentle smile smeared across his mouth. Jim can feel a soft blush of embarrassment prickle across his cheeks. Spock can see it. He can see how Jim’s faking everything. That realisation almost knocks the breath straight out of his lungs.

‘Jim,’ Spock says when the silence between them has steeped for a little too long - when it starts to taste a little too bitter and look a little too dark - ‘Please accept my sincerest and most heartfelt apologies if I have made you feel in any way uncomfortable - I assure you that that is not, nor will it ever be, my intention.’

Jim frowns, his fingertips ghosting over the curve of his apple, one hand below the table, clutching at his thigh.

‘I’m okay, Spock,’ Jim offers quietly, though he can’t quite look his lover in the eye, focusing instead on the half-vulcan’s mouth. Spock seems to accept it for a moment, sipping his tea again before he puts his cup down and follows Jim’s gaze. The captain is glancing over at his crew reflexively. This is how it works, he needs to make sure everyone else is okay before he can feed himself. Food genocide tends to do that to a guy.

‘The crew are quite well,’ Spock says softly, with such evenness that Jim starts to feel his heart pounding in his chest.

‘I know that,’ Jim counters, with less surety, ‘I know that _objectively_.’

‘Then, objectively you also know that it is okay for you to eat,’ Spock offers in a less-steady breath, his head tilting softly, his long fingers slipping from his mug to settle on the table - halfway between himself and Jim, ‘Nothing bad will happen if you do so.’

‘Spock..’ Jim groans, unsure what to say, unsure what to offer. Feeling like he owes the man something but uncertain what it is _exactly_ he needs to say to reassure his friend. He’s not like this everyday, in fact, he hasn’t felt like this for months, it’s just a thing that happens every now and then - and it’s over almost as soon as it comes. Yeah, it’s a _thing_ but it’s not a big thing - only on off days, like today. Today it’s a big thing. Maybe. Wow. Is it getting warm? Jim feels really warm. Is the heating broken again? He looks pointlessly at the air vents. He knows it’s not the heating.

‘You do not have to explain yourself to me,’ Spock says firmly, and Jim starts panicking; wondering what exactly Spock knows - he’d made Bones swear not to say anything about his stay on Tarsus IV to anyone. The captain knew Bones would find out eventually, he has all of their files. He’s their doctor. Jim thinks about that, considers the betrayal at the heart of it, then he realises how ridiculous that line of thought is. How offensive. How wrong. Bones is his best friend, his lover, and the finest CMO Starfleet has ever produced. No, Bones hasn’t said a word to anyone, not even to Spock. Bones would never, _ever_ betray his trust like that. Jim starts to feel nauseous with guilt.

‘It’s that obvious, huh?’ Jim says, forcing a smile. Wondering how weak he looks from the outside. Can the rest of his crew see it too? He looks over at Janice; she’s laughing about something, her head thrown back, can she see his limitations, can she map out what they mean?

‘I am your friend,’ Spock says then, drawing Jim’s attention back to their table; leaning forward to put his hand on top of Jim’s.

‘A bit more than my friend,’ Jim smiles, looking for an easy out.

‘Undeniably,’ Spock smiles, not falling for the trap, ‘And it is precisely our connection that allows me to feel your current state of unease and anxiety. You need not worry about the others - you are worryingly astute at hiding your discomfort.’

‘You using your special Vulcan powers on me, Spock?’ Jim asks hoping to deflect, but there’s absolutely no malice, no accusation, in the quiet question.

‘I do not mean to pry,’ Spock says hurriedly, like it’s an indictment he’s had hurled at him before; instantly, Jim feels guilty, ‘Jim, please believe me when I say that it is not my intention to gain any information regarding your private emotions, feelings, or objectives without your consent. Sometimes, when those I love are in distress - be that physical or emotional - I am unable to sufficiently shield the resulting projected emotions. I have tried in vain to correct this persistent lapse but I have not, as of yet, been able to successfully correct this oversight and I am-’

‘Spock,’ Jim says, placing his other hand on top of Spock’s, ‘It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m not accusing you of anything. And you don’t have to ‘correct’ yourself. I don’t- I don’t like you thinking like that. You’re perfect exactly as you are, all right?’ Spock considers this with a lopsided smile.

‘Captain, there are at least 176 incidents in my personal history that disprove your theory of perfection,’ Spock says with the tiniest hint of a smile. Jim rolls his eyes.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ The captain waves him off. Their eyes meeting for a moment before Jim pulls his gaze downwards.

The sound of chairs and cutlery rattles around them then, Jim pulling his hands away from Spock’s as their crew tidies their table away. Laughing and smiling ‘good mornings’ as they walk past their superiors and slip out of the door. Jim smiles and waves back, looking exactly like he does every other day. Spock smiles too, nods occasionally at the greetings sent his way, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Jim.

When they are completely alone, Spock says, ‘What can I do to assist you?’

There’s a kindness in his voice that Jim likes to believe he picked up from his mother. Spock has always maintained that she was too considerate, too patient.

‘Are you...’ Jim begins awkwardly, ‘Are you hungry, Spock?’

‘I am not,’ Spock recounts without hesitation, ‘I find myself to be entirely satisfied and nourished to the standards that my body requires for optimal functioning.’

‘Promise?’ Jim asks automatically, before he can take it back. He sounds like a desperate child, he winces at the vulnerability of his own words. Holy shit, that was humiliating.

‘I promise, Jim,’ Spock says swiftly, without pity or judgement; voice warm and certain. Jim toys with his apple, twisting it in his hands before he lifts it to his lips and takes a tiny bite. He really feels like a child now. He’s not hungry, he hasn’t been hungry in a long time. But he knows he needs to eat. So, he takes another bite. For Spock.

‘Did you know that Leonard has an aptitude for embroidery?’ Spock says out of the blue and Jim’s eyes widen in surprise.

‘He does?’ The captain asks in awe; taking another miniscule bite.

Spock smiles, ‘Indeed he does. I have witnessed it first hand. Of course, I have been threatened against sharing this information but as we are all of us together in a relationship, I felt it pertinent that you be made aware of our lover’s supplementary skills.’

‘Wow,’ Jim smiles genuinely, ‘what was he embroidering?’

‘He was crafting a birthday card for Nurse Chapel,’ Spock relays with a fond smile, ‘It would seem her mother usually stitches a card for her. However, this year, due to our delays, she will be unable to receive such a gift on the relevant date.’

‘That’s… that’s actually really sweet,’ Jim says, eating the last of his apple.

‘It is fascinating,’ Spock offers in agreement, ‘Although, I did find myself wondering...’

‘Yeah?’ Jim says, meeting Spock’s gaze without trouble for the first time.

‘Indeed. Would you hypothesize that all doctors are equally adept at needlepoint? Or do you believe that Doctor McCoy is exceptional in his ability?’

‘Well, I guess he’s had a lot of practice patching us up across the galaxy,’ Jim smiles, thinking of all the times Bones has had to physically sew them back together. Much to his very vocal dissatisfaction, of course.

‘Mmm,’ Spock hums in agreement, sipping his tea once more. Then they sit together in happy silence, until Jim clears his throat.

‘Thanks, Spock,’ he says, ‘For not making my _thing_ into a big thing between us.’

Spock offers him a smile, ‘I will never demand that you explain yourself to me. Simply know that I will always be available should you desire to discuss it.’

‘Have you…’ Jim starts slowly, almost shyly, ‘Have you always known?’

‘I have known that you struggle with mealtimes since we became friends.’

‘Sorry,’ Jim says, but he doesn’t look away, Spock’s brow furrows.

‘Why are you sorry?’ There’s no meanness in the question, no force.

‘Because I’m supposed to be the captain. It’s embarrassing, it’s unprofessional. I know it makes me unfit for the job. You must see that; I know that I do,’ Jim offers with a shrug. Spock shakes his head, a look of disbelief washing across his face.

‘Jim, while it is true that you are my friend above all else, you are also the greatest captain that this ship, that Starfleet, has ever seen. It is not a weakness to be vulnerable; in fact, your vulnerability is one of your most honourable traits. Indeed, to be alive is to be vulnerable.’

‘Thanks, Spock,’ Jim grins, throwing his apple core gently at Spock; it hits his first officer’s chest and falls to the table. Spock arches an eyebrow.

‘You are most welcome,’ the half-vulcan says, picking the apple core up and placing it halfway between them.

‘I feel like I owe you one,’ Jim says, ‘I can pay you back later. If you like?’

‘I do not require sexual gratification as a reward for fundamental honesty,’ Spock says seriously, although there’s an unmistakable sparkle in his brown eyes.

‘I know. It’d be nice though, huh?’ Jim grins as the cafeteria door _whooshes_ open and Bones strides in. Glancing in their direction before he says, ‘Look at you two. You look guilty as sin.’

Bones grabs himself a cup of coffee, orders himself a few slices of buttery toast, and requests a bottle of mineral water. He’s never been one to linger, he has a routine. Accordingly, he picks up the plate and mug and tucks the water under his arm, moving towards his lovers with well-balanced ease. Sensing the palpable sexual tension as soon as he takes a seat next to Spock.

‘Starting without me? Well, that’s rude,’ Bones says, half-scowling as he gulps down a mouthful of hot coffee.

‘We wouldn’t dream of it,’ Jim smiles, and Bones grunts before he pushes the bottle of water across the table and says, ‘Drink that.’ Jim unscrews the cap and starts drinking, he _is_ a little thirsty and his throat’s a little dry too.

‘You gonna give me a good morning kiss or what, hobgoblin?’ Bones says, as he bites into his toast, baring his cheek for Spock who simply says, ‘Yes, Doctor,’ and leans in. Placing a warm kiss on Bones’ cheek before slipping an arm around his back.

‘That’s more like it,’ Bones says, with a broad smile.

The doctor eats two more pieces of toast, listens to his lovers’ chatter, before he huffs and declares, ‘I’m stuffed. Jimmy, do me a favour and eat the last slice? I’d hate to waste it; besides, you got quite the workout last night, kid.’

‘I guess I did,’ Jim says, remembering their night together. His thighs still hurt from the exertion.

As their captain reaches out for the last slice of buttery toast, Spock gently squeezes Bones’ side. It’s the kind of squeeze that says, ‘ _Thank you, Leonard. I love you_.’

‘Also,’ Bones says, while he remembers, ‘I don’t know if you know this but it’s Christine’s birthday tomorrow. I thought we could throw her a little party, maybe hang a banner up in here, get a few nibbles, grab a few bottles of whiskey.’

‘It’s her birthday,’ Jim says, ‘I had no idea.’

Bones instantly glares over at Spock, his eyes squinting in suspicion, ‘You told him about the card?! Some confidant you are!’

‘Please forgive me, Leonard,’ Spock says almost too earnestly as Jim starts cackling.

‘All right. All right. Good job I’m a soft touch,’ he says, before looking over at Jim, his mouth full of toast, ‘And you still owe me my morning kiss.’

‘Yes, Doctor,’ Jim says standing to lean across the table and kiss Bones’ cheek, Bones can feel the buttery mark that Jim’s lips leave behind. A piece of toast and an apple. That’s not much but it’s something. Bones will keep a close eye on him.

‘I better go,’ Jim says, not bothering to sit back down, moving to stand behind Spock and Bones instead, a warm hand pressed against each of their backs, ‘I’ll see you both on the bridge.’

‘Off you go then, mother-hen,’ Bones snorts, very aware that Jim is about to visit every single on-duty member of his crew to confirm their overall wellbeing, ‘Don’t go missing us too much in the meantime.’

Jim laughs at that and walks away, the _whoosh_ of the door signalling his exit. It’s then that the line of Spock’s shoulders slumps a little.

‘He’ll be all right,’ Bones says softy, grabbing Spock’s thigh under the table.

Spock nods and smiles over at Bones, he knows it’s true, but he can’t help saying, ‘He does not deserve this.’

‘I know,’ Bones says, giving Spock’s leg a gentle squeeze before he hesitates and whispers, ‘The shit he’s lived through is... it’s horrific, Spock.’

That’s as close as Bones ever gets to telling Spock about their captain's past without Jim’s express permission. And Spock, well, Spock wouldn’t _dare_ to ask him for more.

Instead, he leans into the doctor and rests his head on Bones’ shoulder.

When Nyota slips into the cafeteria behind them, humming melodically as she moves, they don’t feel the need to separate.


End file.
